


Brood

by myriddin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: After the Second War for the Dawn, life at Winterfell is returning to a peaceful routine, except for one small hiccup. Jon's brooding is out of control.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by http://myriddin.tumblr.com/post/156716320661/roachpatrol-perspicaciousembroiderist
> 
> I couldn't resist the idea of a clingy Jon Snow brooding over other Starklings, as in a brooding hen. Not so much with the aggressive defensiveness, but definitely refusing to let go. Enjoy!

Jon’s excessive brooding was understandable considering everything he had been through, but as the long winter faded into summer and life began to settle into a peaceful routine, that brooding was beginning to interfere.

Sansa Stark was a strong woman, stubborn as the winter cold though she hid it behind pleasant courtesies. But those traits were shared among the blood of Winterfell, and Jon was proving a difficult opponent as he glared petulantly and refused to budge.

The boys weren’t being any help either. Rickon was dozing peacefully in the crook of Jon’s arm, cuddled up in a way Sansa certainly couldn’t get the rambunctious child to stay still for. Bran was stretched out on the other side, his head pillowed against Jon’s thigh as he contently read from a book.

“Jon,” she said as firmly as she could, ignoring Arya’s snickering behind her. So much for following Sansa out to the godswood to be of help. “Rickon has to attend his lessons at some point.”

“No,” Jon replied, his brows pinching together and his jaw clenching as he scowled at some point just passed her ear, not truly wanting to glower at her directly. “Sam can come teach him out here.”

Arya chortled, sidling up to Sansa’s side with a cheeky smirk. “He has a point.”

Unfortunately for Arya, her speaking up had caught Jon’s attention, his eyes lighting up as she stepped within reaching distance. She yelped as he yanked her down, landing squarely in his lap after twisting to avoid colliding with Bran. He wrapped his free arm around her, holding on tight as she tried to squirm away.

Arya gave up with a huff, and the absurdity of it all (the sullen look on her face, the contented smile on Jon’s as he tucked her head beneath his chin) was nearly enough to break through Sansa’s composure, but somehow she managed to stay firm. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, counted to ten before trying again.

“Jon, I need to speak with you privately, please.”

Arya, having decided her position was actually quite comfortable and Jon’s warmth might be enough to lull her to sleep as well, cracked open one irritated eye. “What could you possibly have to say to him that you can’t say in front of the rest of us?”

Jon grunted in agreement, and Sansa could no longer hold onto her temper. “Seven save me, Jon, I’ve been trying to get you alone for a week!”

“Why?”

“To tell you I’m with child, you oblivious mule-headed man!”

A pregnant silence followed. Arya gaped, Rickon snored, Bran turned a page, and Jon stared. Then he gently lifted Bran’s head, replacing his leg with his cloak, maneuvered Rickon from his shoulder to lean against the weirwood behind them, and launched himself at Sansa with an eager gleam in his eyes.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, Jon burying his face against her midriff. Sansa sighed, carding her fingers through his hair and resigning herself to waiting for Arya to stop laughing so she could have the other girl finally cajole Rickon to his lessons with Maester Samwell.

Bran calmly turned another page in his book.


End file.
